museum hold drive

While this world had rail travel, people hardly used it for daily commuting. Nor was the Convoy as widespread as the public transit systems Vivi knew back home. The Convoy linked cities throughout the continent, but only major ones, and was for transporting goods as much as people. The train having already arrived, she saw workers hauling crates away, hurrying to meet the tight schedule.

Her turn at the ticket booth arrived, and she stepped up. A pimply-faced boy no older than sixteen greeted her. A brief exchange followed in which Vivi questioned him on the different types of passage.

Unsurprisingly, the lowest tier was an economy ticket where commoners could pack in for an affordable ride—relatively speaking—between cities. According to him, it was an especially good value today since they would be light on passengers. Everyone would be able to stretch their legs. Most people in Prismarche were staying for the full festival, not leaving after the first day.

Higher up was an equivalent to business class, then first class, and finally something he called ‘access to the Lounge’, which he explained only after being pressed.

For the first time in her life, she had enough money to not have to worry about wasting it, and the train ride would be over twelve hours. Why not make the trip in comfort? She had coin to spare.

The cost was two mithril per leg. She would have to pay a similar fee for the next chunk of distance too.

How valuable was two mithril, in terms she could understand? Since all coins traded at a ten-to-one ratio—though the different denominations weren’t of a uniform size—that meant twenty gold coins.

Gold was valuable. Everyone knew that. But some people didn’t realize how valuable. Those standard-size ingots that weighed under thirty pounds were worth well over a million dollars. Learning that, Vivi had gone on an internet crawl out of curiosity. A shocking tidbit was that a standard quarter, if made of pure gold, would be worth more than a thousand dollars. For that tiny bit of metal.

Seeing how Seven Cataclysms’ gold coins were roughly twice the size of a quarter, meaning four times the volume, that meant four thousand dollars each—probably more.

Of course, she had no idea if these coins were pure gold. They were probably mixed with some ratio of other metals, because thanks to its softness, pure gold made for poor coinage. And trying to compare purchasing power across time periods, much less worlds, didn’t make sense. She knew that without a degree in economics.

Still. If she did some math? Two mithril, equaling twenty large gold coins, each of which was worth roughly four grand?

Eighty thousand dollars?

For a train ride? Per ticket, per leg of the trip.

She blanched, but she’d already handed over the coins. She’d done the calculations while walking away.

It explained why Saffra had a horrified look on her face. “You bought one for me? Why?”

Vivi frowned. If the girl had taken the perspective that she shouldn’t have wasted the money on either of them, that would have been fair. But if she had bought one for herself, why wouldn’t Saffra deserve a comfortable ride too?

“Coin isn’t an issue,” Vivi said dismissively, and that was the truth of the matter, even if her frugal half paled at what she’d done. “Also, that reminds me.” She pulled out a pouch filled with forty mithril, mentally staggering as she realized just how much money that was. “Your half.” She would pass over the entire bounty, but suspected Saffra would protest.

Saffra took the bag with a furrowed brow, untied the string, and peeked in. She stiffened at what she saw.

“My half of what?” she asked, suddenly tense.

“Those two had bounties on them.”

Vivi knew she’d done something wrong by how Saffra froze, clamped the bag shut, and swiveled her head to Vivi.

“So why are you giving me half?” she snapped, eyes wide, her posture panicked. “I almost got myself killed. And Allen too. I didn’t help at all.”

“You were the one who—” Vivi started.

“I wasn’t careful enough. I didn’t take the precautions I should’ve, and in the end I sat there useless and was saved by a miracle no one in their right mind could have expected. Half? Why would I get half?” She shoved the bag toward Vivi. “Take it. Take it back. I don’t want it!”

Vivi took the pouch, if only because she sensed that now wasn’t the time to argue the point. Saffra was shaking slightly, and seemed ready to sprint away.

Vivi wasn’t good with people, and here was the evidence. She had done something callous without meaning to. Far from a first in her life.

She had also vastly overestimated how much Saffra had ‘bounced back’ from the events of the prior day. In retrospect, she was a massive idiot. Being assaulted and nearly captured alive wasn’t something a thirteen-year-old girl ‘got over’ in a single night.

Someone else might have had the right words to smooth things over, but not her. And she’d learned saying nothing was better than digging the hole deeper.

“Sorry,” she offered, if nothing else.

Saffra had composed herself by the time they reached their destination, but she was still looking miserable. “I’m sorry too,” she mumbled.

The Convoy—the train itself—was an impressive sight. It was larger than most trains, at least as she knew them, squat and blocky, layered with armor thick enough to stop a cannonball.

Which, upon a moment’s reflection, made sense. This vehicle sailed through thousands of miles of monster-infested territory. Seeing how the rail lines spanned to the remote reaches of Prismarche, the Convoy traveled through very dangerous territory too. Her eyes drifted to what looked like gun turrets stationed every few cars. She sensed mana thrumming through the devices. They looked like they could pivot around, and were presumably piloted from beneath. No doubt magical artillery for fending off the worst of the monsters. She wondered what sort of firepower they packed.

A man checked their tickets, eyes flicking to the badges on their chests—Vivi wore her gold-rank badge in hopes she wouldn’t automatically be assumed a child—and tore the stub off and handed back the rest.

“I hope you ladies have a nice trip,” he said, bowing slightly.

Vivi sensed a hint of confusion in the words, no doubt thanks to their ranks. A gold and a silver weren’t supposed to board this carriage.

The interior of the Lounge was spacious, but not especially so. Seating arrangements filled the space: plush armchairs clustered together, a communal space where velvet sofas surrounded a table of polished dark wood, and seating at the far end offering a modicum of privacy.

Toward one wall of the car was an elegantly set table with an array of pastries, fruits, and other morsels—a snack table, though that phrase felt too low-class. Two impeccably dressed butlers stood attentively nearby, presumably ready to assist their clients.

The Lounge bled wealth. Not that Vivi was experienced enough with ‘high-class’ to know faux material from real, but she was certain this was the real deal. The gleaming wood paneling, the luxurious carpets, the rich upholstery. She felt out of place.

A tingling of that sixth sense pulled her attention away. Her eyes bore into the walls, past the paneling, and into the metal shell of the car itself. Enchantments. And not weak ones—ones that made the mithril-rank holding cells in Prismarche look like a cage made of tissue paper.

Vivi realized suddenly that the exorbitant cost wasn’t for the luxury of the experience. In fact, all things considered, this was only a bit above what she would expect of a first-class ride. Maybe less, since it wasn’t private.

No, the price was for safety. This room was so well-defended she doubted even monsters above level one-thousand would have much success piercing the shell. Should something go wrong with the train, anyone inside this carriage would be perfectly defended until help came. Against any reasonable threat, at least.

In the world of Seven Cataclysms, there were plenty of unreasonable threats, monsters that would give even Vivi a—mild, admittedly—run for her money. Such monsters would take apart these defenses with ease. But enchantments of this strength were likely some of the best a person could expect, meant for nobility or other elites.

That explained why despite the cost, the Lounge was tight-packed. It was a rolling fortress first, a luxury experience second.

Maybe she’d wasted her money, because she had little need for safety. She supposed for Saffra’s sake, she appreciated it.

Regardless, it was the finest travel accommodations she’d ever seen, so she would enjoy herself.

Saffra also ogled the Lounge, walking in hesitantly alongside Vivi. Vivi knew she needed to take the lead between them, even though she was feeling awkward too. She belonged in ‘high society’ no more than Saffra.

Other passengers had boarded already, and they looked every inch the expected image of ‘elite and wealthy’. The only person she’d spoken to with any level of status was the Guard Captain, and while he gave off the air of a noble, he was more so a military man.

These were real nobility. Five of them relaxed on sofas in the central area, four adults and a child, all male. A maid—a personal one—quietly watched over the group. Their attention was on one man in particular, a round fellow whose suit needed to be tailored yesterday; it strained to hold him in. Based on how everyone hung on his words, he held the highest rank. He gesticulated as he spoke, his voice nasally, and he was obviously enjoying the attention. Vivi couldn’t say why, but she instantly disliked him.

The group’s gazes turned to Vivi and Saffra as they walked in, probably because anyone entering the Lounge was of automatic interest. The cost weeded out all but the wealthiest of people. It took a certain sort of individual to pay such an exorbitant fee.

The lead noble’s nose wrinkled during his inspection of them. Vivi wore her usual robes, which, under a constant [Illusion] to hide the fact they were the Vestments of the Voidwalker, were rather plain-looking.

Saffra’s outfit revealed her place in the social hierarchy much more blatantly. She had donned her adventuring get-up: practical, well-used gear. Boots, pants, a loose shirt and shawl, a belt with pouches, and a hefty backpack slung over her shoulders. She came off as what the badge on her chest identified her as: a silver-rank adventurer.

The nobleman’s lip curled, obviously disapproving of the sight they made, but he kept up a facade of decorum.

“Welcome, ladies. A rare pleasure to see such…unconventional company in this carriage.”

His tone was fishing—he wanted to know how a silver and a gold, obviously not of noble birth, had afforded a ticket.

Vivi briefly wondered whether it was too late to get a refund. The accommodations seemed nice, but she hadn’t known she’d been signing up for the snooty nobleman treatment.

“The pleasure is mine,” she said, somewhat tersely. She turned and pulled Saffra along, headed for the opposite end of the room, toward the more private seating.

She made it three steps before an affronted lackey squawked, “That was Lord Barnaby Caldimore who greeted you, if you were unaware.”

Saffra stiffened to her side, so apparently she knew the name. Weirdly, it tickled something in Vivi’s memories too. Caldimore. Had that been a plot-relevant lineage in Seven Cataclysms? If so, not an especially important one, because she drew a blank.

It was probably best she gave a token response. Repressing a sigh, she turned back. “Vivienne. Saffra.” She gestured at each of them. “As I said, a pleasure.”

“Vivienne? An unusually human name for a demon,” Lord Caldimore said mildly.

Was it? That was a useful tidbit, even if this interaction was annoying her. She hadn’t known people would think her name odd. In retrospect, it made sense.

“Perhaps,” Vivi replied, turning away again.

She expected them to press the issue, but they didn’t. They began muttering about her rudeness, and something about ‘low-rank adventurers’. She guessed she would give them credit for not escalating pointlessly.

She sat with Saffra in the corner of the carriage, in a duo of plush seats. Impressed, Vivi wiggled around as she got situated. So this was the comfort of high-class furniture. She could get used to it.

Saffra looked uneasy. She sent a worried look to the group of nobles. “Should…you have done that?”

Vivi considered. She studied the men, then threw up a silencing spell so they could talk without concern.

“You knew that name. Caldimore. Who is he?”

Advertisement